


A Good Thing To Be

by Glowbug



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Carolyn won't stand for any such thing, Gen, Gordon scares Arthur, MJN origin story, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowbug/pseuds/Glowbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolyn's ex-husband calls her every year wanting to buy his plane back. The very first of these calls gives Carolyn an idea...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Thing To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Minor warnings for Gordon being nasty.

Carolyn is reading a magazine on the sofa (the _new_ sofa, in the _new_ house, at the opposite end of Britain from that bastard Gordon) when the phone rings.

“I’ll get it, Mum!” Arthur shouts from down the hall. She can hear him humming tunelessly as he trots toward the phone. Carolyn smiles. Arthur was always cheerful, but in the last year he’s become downright exuberant. It would be exasperating save that the change is clearly caused by relief, a feeling she shares.

She flips a page in her magazine. It’s dull (are picture-perfect houses _really_ all that’s expected of a woman her age?), but it passes the time. Arthur is speaking into the phone: “Hello! This is the Shappey residence, I mean the Knapp-Shappey residence, the me and Mum residence, er — Arthur Shappey speaking!”

Her rueful chuckle dies with Arthur’s next sentence, a strained stammer she’d hoped never to hear again. “H-hi, D-Dad.”

 _Good Lord! Isn’t he through with us yet?_ Carolyn throws the magazine against the arm of the sofa and jumps to her feet. “Okay, I’ll go g-get her,” Arthur is saying as she strides toward the living room door. When she opens it, her son is already standing there, white-faced and wide-eyed. “D-Dad says he wants to ask you something.” He points toward the phone. “H-he said hurry up.”

 _And what else did he say?_ Gordon can wait. Carolyn wraps her arms around Arthur. He clings to her. _Damn_ that man for scaring him. “It’s all right,” she says. It sounds hollow. She sets her jaw. Gordon may scare Arthur, but he no longer scares her. “I’ll handle him,” she says firmly, and that sounds better. Arthur relaxes minutely. She pulls back enough to look him in the eye. “Why don’t you take Snoopadoop for a walk? A nice _long_ walk. When you come back we can make dinner.” Arthur brightens a little and nods. When she lets him go, he dashes to the far end of the hall and up the stairs. Carolyn marches to the telephone, picks it up, and speaks in her iciest voice. “Yes?”

“Carolyn!” Gordon snaps on the other end of the line. “I’m still waiting to get my jet back off you.”

“It is _not_ your jet,” Carolyn responds instantly. Not that she knows what to do with said jet. She had hired a pilot to fly it to Fitton (along with herself, Arthur, Snoopadoop, and most of their things—because why not?), but it hasn’t left the ground since. Honestly, she’s been too busy getting them all situated to think much about what on _earth_ she will do with an aeroplane. But “my jet” rankles. She’s not about to give it to him simply because he wants it. Also… “What did you say to Arthur?”

“That damn fool of a useless son! Look here—I’ll buy it off you.” It takes a moment for Carolyn to realize he’s still talking about the jet. “Three hundred thousand pounds, how about that?”

“It’s not for sale.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Gordon snarls. “You haven’t got any use for the bloody thing. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a contract. Where shall I have him send it?”

A creak from halfway up the stairs, and a faint yip; Arthur and Snoopadoop. Probably Arthur has stopped on the steps and is listening. Carolyn draws herself up to her full height. “Gordon Shappey, I’ll have you know that it is _my jet now._ I will not sell it to you, I will not give it to you, and I will, in fact, do with it as I please.”

“Like what?” he roars.

“Anything. Start an airline, perhaps!”

_“What?!”_

“Now sod off!” she snaps, and slams the phone down.

 _That_ felt good.

Arthur cautiously emerges from the stairwell, Snoopadoop in his arms. He’s dressed them both in the matching forest-green pullovers she gave them last Christmas. “Is he gone?”

“He’s gone.” For good measure, she unplugs the phone.

“Are you really starting an airline with GERTI?” Arthur’s eyes glimmer with excitement for a moment. He sets Snoopadoop on the floor and carefully unwinds her lead.

Carolyn shakes her head, smiling. “What do I know about running an airline? I only wanted to give your dad a good telling off. He wants to buy the plane back.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. “You’re not going to let him, are you?”

“Of course not! Why would I let him have anything? Twenty years of our lives was more than enough.” She reaches for her coat. “Care for some company on that walk?”

“Sure, Mum! Snoopadoop loves having you along!” Arthur clips the lead onto Snoopadoop’s collar. _“I_ think having our own airline would be _brilliant,”_ he adds.

Carolyn laughs. “At least it would put that silly old aeroplane to good use!”

Arthur leads the way out the front door. “Can we go visit GERTI tomorrow, mum? She’s a brilliant plane, even if she _was_ Dad’s.”

“I suppose so,” she replies. “But we can’t fly her, you know.”

“I know. But can I make coffee on the little machine in the little kitchen? No, wait—it’s not a kitchen, it just looks like a kitchen, it’s a, it’s a—it’s a galley!”

“That’s my boy! Why not. We’ll take some coffee grounds along with us.”

“Hurray!” Arthur tugs on Snoopadoop’s lead. “Heel, girl! Going for a walk, come on!” Snoopadoop yips.

“Mum,” Arthur says half a block later, “if _we_ can’t fly GERTI, could we find somebody who can? We could go all over the world with her!”

It’s a thought. She certainly needs something to do besides read those ridiculous magazines… and she remembers being fond of aeroplanes (less fond than Arthur, but still fond) years ago, before she married a man rich enough to own one and horrible enough to ban their son from setting foot in it.

“My Jet Now Air,” she says aloud, recalling her words to Gordon on the phone. “It does have a nice ring, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Arthur’s face lights up.

It’s a big decision, hardly one to be made in an instant. And yet…

“Perhaps we can, Arthur,” she says, leaning down to pet Snoopadoop. “Perhaps we can.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am open to corrections on my attempts at British turns of phrase — being American, I've probably butchered something. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
